| General Fiction posted March 31, 2023 | Chapters: |
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The end of the match
A chapter in the book Lucky Eddie
Lucky Eddie - Chapter 6
by Jim Wile
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
| Background Two young men meet as opponents during the finals of the golf club championship and soon become lifelong best friends. It is their great friendship that helps them navigate many of life's challenges. |
(See the Author Notes for the definition of any golf terminology used as well as a description of the main characters.)
Recap: Eddie arranges a match with Kenny and himself against two prospective members of the club. Kenny is reluctant because he senses they are hustlers, but Eddie, knowing they are hustlers, has plans of his own to hustle them.
They begin the match the following day, and the bet is $2,000. By the end of the third hole, the match is even. By the end of the ninth hole, Kenny and Eddie are 3-down and Eddie assures a doubting Kenny and Abby that it’s going according to plan. Eddie spikes a coke to give to E.J. who is caddying for his opponents in hopes he will start screwing up and costing his opponents some holes. On the 10th hole, Eddie fakes a sprained ankle and convinces the opponents to let Kenny hit all the long shots and he would just putt on the remainder of holes. They agree.
They start their comeback as Eddie sinks putt after putt and Kenny continues with his great shot-making. After accepting Eddie’s proffered flask of rum and downing it, E.J. begins messing up and costs Fairbanks and Welborn a hole. The match is now even with three holes to go. Kenny and Eddie win the 16th when E.J. steps on Fairbanks’s ball causing him a penalty, and Fairbanks fires him on the spot. Fairbanks and Welborn win the 17th, so the match is all even going into the 18th hole.
We arrived at the 183-yard uphill par-3 18th. Gary was carrying not only my bag now, but Welborn’s as well. Fairbanks had put his bag on Eddie’s cart back on the 16th hole after firing E.J. Today, the pin was on the first level of this long, narrow, three-level green. The hole would be playing more like 160 yards.
Welborn was up, and he asked Gary for his 4-iron. He wound up and hit it solidly, but with a slight fade, it just missed the green on the right and bounded down into a deep bunker guarding the right side of the green. “Shit,” he muttered as he slammed his club back into his bag, Gary removing his hand just in time. “Sorry, partner,” he said to Fairbanks. “I haven’t been all that much help today, I’m afraid. Looks like I’m countin’ on you here again.”
“It’s okay, Bucky. You can knock it close from there,” he said, even though we all knew that was unlikely.
Fairbanks had selected a 6-iron for his tee shot, which I knew was going to be too much club for him with the pin at the front. The hole was uphill, and you couldn’t see the bottom of the flagstick, so it played deceptively shorter than it looked. He hit a beautiful high shot which landed on the second level and stopped, right in the center of the green.
“Nice shot,” I said as I moved to the tee markers to set up for my shot with a 7-iron. Fairbanks’s shot was long, I knew, and was going to leave him a tough putt to get close to the hole, but he didn’t know that yet.
“Hold on, Sport,” Eddie called out as I started to address the ball. I backed off and looked at him.
“Hey, fellas,” he said, looking at Welborn and Fairbanks. “Whadda ya say we double the bet? Four grand.”
We all just stared at him after this bombshell.
“Eddie, I—”
“Come over here, Kenny,” he said, cutting me off. As I walked over to the side of the tee where he was parked, I saw Fairbanks starting to confer with Welborn. Evidently, they were taking this wild proposal seriously.
“Eddie, I don’t have that kind of money—" I started, but he wouldn’t have it.
“Listen, Sport,” he said in a half-whisper so our opponents couldn’t hear us. “Welborn’ll never get it out of that bunker, and Fairbanks is up on the second level, right? He won’t be able to stop it anywhere near the hole, so he’s lookin’ at a pretty sure bogey. All you gotta do is put it on the front level, and I’ll knock it in. We birdie, they bogey, and we win the match! I’ve seen you make this shot plenty of times.”
“I don’t know, Eddie.”
“C’mon, Sport, you could do it! Don’t worry about the money; I got that covered. You won’t owe anything if we lose. Just get up there and hit a good shot.”
At that moment Welborn came over and asked, “What happens if we tie the hole? What then?”
“Sudden death. We keep playing the hole until someone wins,” said Eddie.
“And we keep gettin’ a handicap stroke?”
“Yep.”
That was enough to seal the deal for them. With Fairbanks already on the green, thinking he was in great shape for at least a par, the worst it would be for them was a tie if we somehow managed to birdie the hole. Then we would have to do it all over again. The advantage certainly looked to be theirs.
“We’re in!” said Welborn.
How could I refuse Eddie? So far, his plans had worked beautifully, and he had previously intimated that he still might have a trick up his sleeve.
I nodded to him and then walked over behind my ball to line up the shot again. I rehearsed the swing a couple of times, stepped up to my ball, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.
I knew right away it was a good shot just by the way it felt. I had absolutely pured it, and the ball lofted high into the air heading just a fraction left of the pin. It came down softly and looked like it would be close. We couldn’t exactly tell how close, from where we stood, since we were unable to see the surface of the lower level.
“Great shot, Sport!” shouted Eddie, who came running over to clap me on the back. We all noticed that he was no longer limping. Fairbanks and Welborn scowled but said nothing as they suddenly realized the extent of Eddie’s hustle. They couldn’t very well complain, because they had been trying to hustle us with their phony handicaps.
Eddie got back in the cart, and we all headed up to the green. As Welborn approached his ball in the bunker, he began cursing again. His ball had hit on the bank above and rolled down into the bottom of this very deep bunker with a huge lip. He could not see the surface of the green from where his ball lay. His first shot hit the lip and rolled back right into his footprints. His second attempt didn’t even make it that far. At that point, he was in his pocket and would rely, once again, on Fairbanks to finish the hole.
My ball ended up eight feet behind the cup and a little bit to the left. It would be a difficult putt. Fairbanks’s putt, however, looked next to impossible, and he became visibly shaken as he approached his ball. Sure enough, it was on the middle level about 30 feet directly behind the hole. The problem, though, was that once the ball made it over the front of the level he was on, it would be impossible for it to stop close to the hole down on the bottom tier unless it hit the back of the cup. After a few very short practice strokes, he stood over his ball, took the club back about six inches and just barely tapped it. The ball moved slowly and almost came to a stop at the edge of the shelf, then just trickled over and began picking up speed. Down the hill it went toward the hole. It looked like it was in, but at the last second, it veered a fraction and just missed on the left. Now there was no way for it to stop, and it rolled right off the front of the green and down into a little swale in front—45 feet from the hole. He was further away now than he was for his putt.
Steam was coming out of Fairbanks’s ears. “What kind of fucking green is this anyway?” he bellowed. “That is totally unfair!”
“Shouldn’t have put it up there on the second level,” Eddie said, rubbing salt in the wound.
“You shut the hell up! This is some course you’ve got here. Damn greens, damn caddies. You can bet I won’t be joining!”
“Never figured you were,” said Eddie.
Welborn went over to try to calm him down, again. Seems like that was his role today; he certainly hadn’t contributed much to the score. “Look, Jimmy, you’re not out of it yet. You pitch that ball up there close and make the putt, he’s still gotta make his. If he misses, we’re tied, and we get to do this again. You won’t hit it long a second time.”
“You’re right, you’re right. Let me just take a minute here and catch my breath.” He walked about twenty yards away and just sat down on the fairway, staring back at the tee.
Meanwhile, Eddie was lining up his eight-foot putt. He circled completely around the hole, studying it from all angles. It was a tricky downhill putt, and Eddie would have to play a sizable left-to-right break, as the green appeared very slick down here—slicker than usual.
By this time, Fairbanks had finally composed himself and stepped to the side of his ball. It was a straightforward pitch, but he took a few rehearsal swings, making sure his club just nipped the top of the grass. He then took his stance and, without hesitating, pitched it up onto the green. It was a good-looking shot that came up six inches short of the hole. We conceded him the putt for the bogey.
And now it was all up to Eddie. If he made the putt, it would be a birdie and the match. If he missed, we would tie the hole and have to play it again. He stepped up to his ball and took his aim. But wait, that couldn’t be right—he was aiming a good six feet left of the hole on an eight-foot putt! Surely that was too much borrow. His backswing was only about three inches, and he just barely tapped the ball. It inched forward—straight at first—then gradually caught the slope and started down toward the cup. Ever so slowly it moved, just barely turning over—down, down, down until it stopped on the upper lip, and as we stood there rooted to our spots, the ball made one last turn and fell in.
Eddie threw his putter into the air. I ran up and grabbed him as he jumped up and put his legs around my waist—much as he had done those many weeks ago at the end of the club championship. I carried him off the green, clapping him on the back, and telling him I never doubted him for a minute.
“See Sport, we had it all day long!”
Fairbanks and Welborn looked disgusted. They were not used to being beaten, and it clearly showed. They said little as we made our way to the clubhouse.
“Can we buy you fellas a drink as we settle up?” asked Eddie.
“Nah, can’t really stay. Gotta move on,” said Welborn. “Don’t suppose you’d take a check, wouldja?”
“Not a chance,” said Eddie.
Welborn reached into his bag and pulled out a roll of $100 dollar bills. “There’s forty of ‘em here. You can count ‘em.” Looks like he had been prepared to double the bet as well if it had looked like it was going their way. Eddie counted out twenty of them, handed them to me, and pocketed the rest.
Fairbanks never said a word, but as they were leaving, Welborn turned to Eddie and said, “You know, Eddie, that was masterful. I gotta tip my hat to you. But how did you fake that sprained ankle so well? That looked pretty damn real.”
“I got an old girlfriend who’s into theater, and she helped me with it. It’s just a little padding and makeup is all.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” said Welborn with a wink. “See you boys around, huh?”
“Not if we see you first!” replied Eddie, and we all laughed at that.
To be continued...
Handicap: A method of allowing golfers of varying skill levels to compete against each other when betting. A number of strokes are given to the players with lesser ability. To have a 10-handicap means you will have 10 strokes deducted from your score in an 18-hole match.
Handicap ranking for a hole: The scorecard shows the relative ranking of each hole. The #1 handicap hole is the most difficult hole, while the #18 handicap hole is the easiest. If you are to receive 4 handicap strokes, you would get one on each hole marked #1 - #4 (meaning you would deduct 1 stroke from your score on each of those holes. Remember that in golf, the lowest score wins.)
Handicap stroke hole: A hole on which a handicap stroke is given to the team with higher handicaps.
Best-ball match play: A best-ball match means only the best score of each partnership is used to determine the outcome of the hole. Match play is a type of golf match where only the number of holes won is kept track of, not the score for each hole. Thus there's no difference in winning a hole by 1 stroke or by 4 strokes; it results in a +1 for that hole. A best-ball match play match combines these two criteria together.
Scratch: A zero-handicap
Halve a hole: Tie a hole
Chip shot: A short shot from near the green
Pitch: A slightly longer short shot from near the green
Fade: For a right-handed player, a ball that curves from left to right
Fringe: The closely mown area immediately adjacent to the green
Birdie: One under par for a hole
Bogey: One over par for a hole
Borrow: The amount you have to aim left or right of the hole to make a putt on a sloping green
Kenny Payne: The narrator of the story. He is a mechanical engineer who recently graduated from college and joined Brentwood Country Club where he meets Eddie in the finals of the Club Championship. He and Eddie become best friends.
Eddie Phillips: Described by Kenny as the loudest, most flamboyant, often obnoxious person and the kind you either loved or hated, who he had ever met. He is known for his phenomenal luck and his extreme prowess in putting.
Abby St. Claire: Introduced to Kenny by Eddie, she works at the snack bar and as a waitress at the club for a summer job while she finishes college. She is a smart and beautiful redhead who Kenny falls in love with and eventually marries.
E.J. Budrowski: A notoriously bad caddie who has a problem with alcohol. He caddies for Fairbanks and Welborn during the money match.
Jimmy Fairbanks: One of the two hustlers who challenge Kenny and Eddie to a high-dollar match. He is probably a scratch player (0-handicap) although he is a sandbagger who said his handicap was 10.
Bucky Welborn: The other hustler playing with Fairbanks against Kenny and Eddie. He is not as good as Fairbanks.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Handicap ranking for a hole: The scorecard shows the relative ranking of each hole. The #1 handicap hole is the most difficult hole, while the #18 handicap hole is the easiest. If you are to receive 4 handicap strokes, you would get one on each hole marked #1 - #4 (meaning you would deduct 1 stroke from your score on each of those holes. Remember that in golf, the lowest score wins.)
Handicap stroke hole: A hole on which a handicap stroke is given to the team with higher handicaps.
Best-ball match play: A best-ball match means only the best score of each partnership is used to determine the outcome of the hole. Match play is a type of golf match where only the number of holes won is kept track of, not the score for each hole. Thus there's no difference in winning a hole by 1 stroke or by 4 strokes; it results in a +1 for that hole. A best-ball match play match combines these two criteria together.
Scratch: A zero-handicap
Halve a hole: Tie a hole
Chip shot: A short shot from near the green
Pitch: A slightly longer short shot from near the green
Fade: For a right-handed player, a ball that curves from left to right
Fringe: The closely mown area immediately adjacent to the green
Birdie: One under par for a hole
Bogey: One over par for a hole
Borrow: The amount you have to aim left or right of the hole to make a putt on a sloping green
Kenny Payne: The narrator of the story. He is a mechanical engineer who recently graduated from college and joined Brentwood Country Club where he meets Eddie in the finals of the Club Championship. He and Eddie become best friends.
Eddie Phillips: Described by Kenny as the loudest, most flamboyant, often obnoxious person and the kind you either loved or hated, who he had ever met. He is known for his phenomenal luck and his extreme prowess in putting.
Abby St. Claire: Introduced to Kenny by Eddie, she works at the snack bar and as a waitress at the club for a summer job while she finishes college. She is a smart and beautiful redhead who Kenny falls in love with and eventually marries.
E.J. Budrowski: A notoriously bad caddie who has a problem with alcohol. He caddies for Fairbanks and Welborn during the money match.
Jimmy Fairbanks: One of the two hustlers who challenge Kenny and Eddie to a high-dollar match. He is probably a scratch player (0-handicap) although he is a sandbagger who said his handicap was 10.
Bucky Welborn: The other hustler playing with Fairbanks against Kenny and Eddie. He is not as good as Fairbanks.
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